


Advanced Gay Chicken

by Anonymous



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Teen Wolf (TV) - Freeform, The Jungle (Teen Wolf)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 00:37:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8869039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: There are multiple rounds of Gay Chicken. It’s like a giant game of rock-paper-scissors: it starts with everyone being paired up and “battling” each other, then the winner of each pair moves on to “battle” other winners, until there are only two individuals left, and only one can claim the title of ultimate WINNER. The only rules: No penetration, and the first to say “fuck me” or willingly step out of the battle is the loser.This night’s winning pair are Peter Hale and Chris Argent, the Wolf and the Hunter.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Gay chicken](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7202381) by [Arabwel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arabwel/pseuds/Arabwel). 



> This work was based off of a story by Arabwel on archiveofourown.org (link to original here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7202381). I read the story and really liked it, and I had thoughts on new stuff to add to it, so I asked for permission from the author to re-write the story in my own way and expand upon it. It was a great piece to begin with, and I think I did a nice job of re-envisioning it. Thank you, Arabwel, for allowing me to further your work, and I hope you like my version! [ALL RIGHTS RESERVED]
> 
> NOTE: I've never actually seen anything from Teen Wolf, but I came across this fanfiction on ArchiveOfOurOwn.org titled "Gay Chicken", so of course I had to check it out. It was quite good, but of course I had some ideas to make it longer ;D These characters, however, are not at all what I imagined them to be. When I read the short story, I imagined the characters as older teenagers/young men, not grown-ass men like they actually are (I did minimal research). I support shipping non-canon couples, so ChrisXPeter fans continue to do your thing, but as I'm writing it according to how I first envisioned it - two otherworldly, angsty, horny teenage boys playing gay chicken to the extreme - if you hate this work because of that, then I'm sorry.

Peter isn’t quite sure how it starts, but he knows there is something that sets Chris off – something about being called a straight boy that has the hunter chuckle, has him step forward with an eyebrow raised in challenge.

A challenge Peter will gladly accept. This isn’t the first time he’s played gay chicken, and he plays to win. His lips curl in a smirk, the knowledge that he’s got the upper hand here thrumming through his veins. He lets his eyes linger blatantly, because for all his faults, Chris Argent is a fine specimen of manhood. Especially his arms, hidden under too many layers as they are.

“Cat got your tongue, Hale?”

Peter licks his lips, tilting his head to the side a fraction – not enough to bare his neck to a hunter, but enough to suggest.

“Hardly.”

Chris takes another step forward, closing the distance between them from feet to mere inches. Maybe he expects Peter to take a step back, to forget the bar is just behind him and bruise himself against the polished wood, but Peter has no intention of losing – especially not in front of an audience.

He can feel the eyes on them, the anticipation sizzling in the air even over the harsh beat of the music, paper money and coins being exchanged back and forth as all bets are finally locked in. He thinks some of them expect to be disappointed, expect that this will dissolve before they even touch. After all, the tension in Chris’s shoulders in the face of Peter’s insolent sprawl and come-hither eyes doesn’t have quite the same impact when one doesn’t see hunter, just a straight guy. But Peter knows Chris is only trying to intimidate; that despite all that repression and self-loathing, the hunter isn’t a closet case on top of all the daddy issues. So many buttons to push, so little time.

Peter half expects Chris to make some horrible pun about putting his tongue to better use; instead, the hunter just smiles, teeth gleaming white under the artificial lights. “Really now,” he murmurs, voice rough in a way that sends a shiver down Peter’s spine.

He doesn’t resist when the hunter moves closer to bracket Peter with his arms, leaning close enough for the wolf to smell the whiskey in his breath mingled with the gunpowder and wolfs-bane ingrained in his skin. In a voice too low for a mere human to hear, he whispers, “I think you just don’t want to admit how much you want this.”

Peter gasps when Chris bites his earlobe, tugs at it hard enough to hurt before his tongue snakes out to lap at the red marks. He can feel the huff of warm air on his skin as the hunter chuckles, feels himself flushing, the heat blossoming in his gut. He reaches out in retaliation, hooking his fingers in Argent’s belt loops and yanking the hunter closer, close enough to feel just what he is doing to Peter.

He expects Chris to recoil, to tense and push away; admit his loss, go all no homo, pull out a gun and try to shoot him… Anything but this. He doesn’t expect the hunter to grind against Peter in a way that is positively obscene, the fact that he’s just as hard under the rough denim is impossible to deny. It’s such a thrill. Boy, are they going to have some fun.

***

Chris’s grin has more wolf in it than it ought to when he sees Peter’s eyes widen, his pupils blown wide with adrenaline and arousal. It’s laughably easy to insinuate a thigh between the wolf’s legs, to elicit a gasp when Peter can’t help it, can’t help humping Chris’s leg like a bitch in heat.

The wolf looks good like this, spreading his legs for a hunter. It’s on the tip of Chris’s tongue to tell him so, but he thinks it’s too soon; he doesn’t want to risk spooking Peter into backing off, into faking a graceful loss in lieu of letting Chris get the upper hand. This is too perfect of an encounter for Chris to miss out on.

There’s a loud whoop somewhere on the background – fucking Greenberg – when Peter’s hands find their way under Chris’s shirt, nails too sharp to be human scoring red welts down his sides. Chris hisses and retaliates, one hand coming up to grasp Peter by the hair, to yank his head back so Chris can lean in and put his mouth on that ridiculously thick neck. The noise Peter makes goes straight into Chris’s dick, makes him that much harder when he grinds against the wolf, grabbing hold of that perfect ass hard enough to bruise.

“This… This the best you got, Argent?” Peter’s voice is breathy and high-pitched. “Can’t even… Can’t even kiss on the mouth.” 

Chris’s lips curve into a smile against the wolf’s spit-slick skin. “Maybe I’ve got better use for your mouth.”

“Only if you fancy having it bitten off– ” 

Peter’s response gives Chris the perfect opportunity to shut him the fuck up with his mouth, to lick his way in and taste the whiskey and a hint of wolfsbane. Peter moans into the kiss, his body rigid before he arches off the bar and into Chris like his life depended on it.

The wolf looks dazed when Chris pulls back, lips red and swollen, and Chris thinks about how they would look wrapped around his cock, how that plush lower lip was simply made for it. He says as much and Peter growls, low in his chest like the wild animal he is. The sound is intoxicating, but Chris makes sure not to get too jumpy; he doesn’t want Peter to chicken out just yet.

Slowly and deliberately, Chris shifts so Peter’s hips are no longer quite as flush with his, giving his right hand the space needed to brush against the hard bulge under the denim, eliciting another breathless noise from the wolf. He holds Peter’s gaze even as he slowly and deliberately tugs open the fly, not bothering with the belt. He’s not surprised at all that Hale’s not wearing any underwear as he feels the heated flesh being freed. 

“Go on,” He says as he lifts his hand to Peter’s face. “Lick it. Make it nice and smooth for when I jerk you off.” 

Peter’s eyes flash in challenge and fuck, the way the wolf swirls his tongue around Chris’s fingers is abominable, as is the moan only stifled when Peter tries to pull Chris’ fingers into his mouth, tries to suck them into that too-hot cavern. He wants so badly to just push the wolf down, to put him on his knees right here and now.

“None of that, now,” Chris’s voice is rough when he pulls his hand away, when he feels the barest hint of fang against his fingertips, drawing a bereft noise from the wolf that seems almost surprised by it. Before Peter can protest, Chris drops his hand down, wraps his slick hand around Peter’s cock, and closes the gap between their bodies. 

It’s a tight fit but it hides what he’s doing, making it less obvious that he’s got Peter Hale’s leaking dick in his hand as the wolf’s hands scramble for purchase on his shoulders, breath coming in hot, wet pants against Chris’s neck. 

“I’m gonna jack you till you come,” Chris growls in the wolf’s ear, his grip almost too tight for what little slick there is; Peter still moans, body trembling against his. “You’re going to spill in my hand, and then you’re going to lick it all off, get a taste for when I take you out back and fuck – your – mouth.” His words are punctuated by vicious twists of his hand and that’s enough to make Peter moan and shudder as he comes in a hot, wet rush, cock flexing in Chris’s grip. 

The wolf looks wrecked when Chris lifts his hand up, not bothering to tuck Peter back in. His eyes are wide and dark with lust, pupils blown hue by arousal and orgasm. His lips part eagerly when Chris shoves his fingers in, white trailing across his chin glistening too bright in the artificial lights.

Chris doesn’t care about the fact that their audience is hooting and hollering; all he cares about is getting his dick in Peter Hale’s mouth right fucking now. They both know that at this point Chris has won tonight’s Gay Chicken challenge, but both the wolf and the hunter also know that neither are ready for this final round to end just yet. Gotta please the spectators, right?

***

Peter is still breathing heavily, exasperated from Chris’s control over his body. That was fun, but now it’s Peter’s turn to take over.  
“You’re more of a beast than you claim to be. Maybe you’re more suited for wolf life than being a hunter.” Peter gradually unbuttons Chris’s shirt, taking in the pleasure of undressing such a hunk of a man.

Chris chuckles, amused at the compliment. “Nah, man, I don’t think so. I’ll leave you to handle the wolf stuff.”

“Then why don’t you let the beast come out to play.” Peter lowers his eyes and growls deep in his throat, louder than any sounds he has made before, grinning darkly. Chris freezes; for a second, he’s frightened that Peter might actually try to attack him, and turn him into a fellow wolf. Then, he catches Peter’s eye wink at him, a simultaneously playful and reassuring gesture. Chris relaxes once more and smirks, but it doesn’t last long.

Suddenly, Peter is standing behind Chris, one hand holding Chris arm and the other grabbing a tuft of Chris’s hair. Chris is shocked, but unexpectedly enjoys someone else having control for a change; he thinks he could get used to it, and long as it’s Peter Hale, anyway. Peter purrs in Chris’s ear, then proceeds to lick a long, slobbering tongue along his neck from collar to jaw. 

Chris moans at the pleasurable sensation, and with his free hand attempts to find Peter’s ass cheek and squeeze it. Peter stops him with his own hand, saying “Uh-uh. It’s my turn, now” before pulling on his earlobe: a returned favor, which is greatly appreciated.

Peter positions Chris’s head to lay on his own shoulder, then takes both of his hands and brings them to wrap around the back of his neck. Before moving on, Peter slaps Chris’s ass, earning a shocked gasp. Peter’s hands then roam all over Chris’s torso, moving the now-open shift fabric out of the way, one hand near his pecs and the other near his navel.

Peter’s lower hand starts to snake down towards Chris’s trousers, and Chris squirms in response, wanting and yearning, his breath hitching.

“You want it bad, don’t you, little hunter?”

Chris can’t speak, he’s too overcome with anticipation, his cock hardening and pressing against his zipper. Peter’s hand slows, teasing Chris’s skin.

Half of the audience revels in the taunting, while the other half wants them to be hot-and-heavy again.

The wolf whispers in the hunter’s ear: “Our audience is torn. What should I do? Who should I listen to?” The questions are rhetorical; Chris knows that Peter will do whatever he wants.

Peter’s hand continues down, beneath Chris’s trousers. Please, please, please… Chris thinks to himself. The wolf’s hand slides all the way down, and roughly grasps the hunter’s hard, hot member. Chris bucks in response, breathing rapidly, barely noticing the wolf’s tongue tasting his neck again.

“Do you want me to stroke your little hunter?” Peter coos in Chris’s ear, then chuckles darkly.

Chris is still breathing hard, and all he can manage as a response in to vigorously nod his head.

“I’m not a mind-reader. You have to tell me…” Peter’s hand starts to retreat, but Chris catches his wrist before his hand leaves his pants.

“Do it…”

Slightly astonished, but nevertheless encouraged, Peter’s other hand slides down Chris’s chest to undo the button and zipper on his trousers. Peter covers Chris’s head with his hand, so no one else can see his exposed cock. All it takes is a few small strokes, and the hunter spills his seed into the wolf’s hand.

Chris relaxes against Peter when he’s finished, then quickly whips around to face his opponent. The hunter slaps his hands on either side of the wolf’s face, and has the irresistible urge to collide their mouths and melt them together. Peter manages to avert said collision, and coos to Chris: “You wana stop now? When we’re having so much fun?”

Breathless, Chris manages to respond: “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Chris leans in to kiss Peter again, but before he realizes it, Chris is on the ground with Peter looming on top of him. Both of them have their dicks hanging out of their trousers, and they are much more visible than they realize.

"WOOHOO!... GET HIM GOOD!... FUCK HIM ALREADY!... YEAH!..."

"Fuck him… Fuck him! Fuck him, Fuck Him, FUCK HIM, FUCK HIM, FUCK HIM…"

The audience’s chants grow louder as everyone in the place joins in, and finally a steady rhythm is established. Peter and Chris look at each other with incredulous expressions – they interpret the chanting to mean “mock” fucking, not actually penetrating one another, because then the battle would be over.

The wolf smirks. “Gotta give ‘em what they want, right?” Chris looks devilishly back at Peter. Time to turn the tables back, he thinks.

Just as Peter is adjusting himself to perch on top of Chris’s pelvis, the hunter grabs the wolf by the shoulders and turns them over. A shocked Peter looks wide-eyed at his opponent; his wrists are pinned down and hot breath blows in his face.

“Indeed…” responds the hunter. He wants so badly to tongue that pretty little mouth, and now that he is the dominant once again, he can do as he pleases. The hunter collides his mouth with the wolf’s, breathing in his scent and tasting his hot cave – these sensations, mixed with their tongues battling and breath swirling, make Chris wild with lust.

Chris lowers his pelvis towards Peter’s, earning a breathy gasp from the wolf as their manhoods make contact. Both cocks are hard from consistent arousal, but soft enough to move easily against the other. Chris starts to slowly push and pull his pelvis so that his dick rubs against Peter’s; their balls also touch every now and again, which adds to the already-pleasurable sensation for both guys.

The wolf’s breathing increases as the hunter’s thrusts become stronger; the bases of their members are receiving the most action, but it causes the shafts to flop back and forth, causing their nerve endings to sing each time they are struck.

The audience cheers them on, reveling in the hunter’s domination over the wolf’s willing body. Chris grunts and moans while Peter exhales gasps and almost-screams. Chris decides to attack Peter’s neck and leave him a red-and-purple gift, which causes louder and more frequent cries from the receiver.

“Oh… fuck… mmmm…”

Continuing to thrust against the wolf, Chris worries that if he keeps going, Peter might forget what’s really happening and say something he’ll regret. Peter’s eyes are shut tight and his upper body is thrashing about in response to the pleasure he is receiving, with his hands clutching the fabric of Chris’s open shirt – he’s clearly consumed by the experience.

And then, it happens:

“FUCK ME, GODDAMMIT! FUCK ME FOR REAL!”

Everyone gasps. Chris stops mid-motion. Only when the movement has ceased does Peter realize what he just did. He broke a rule; he disqualified himself; he lost tonight’s Gay Chicken.

He stares with his mouth agape, panting like the wolf he is. “No…” he softly exhales.

“Alright, that’s it! Tonight’s battle is over!” Chris and Peter look about the room to find the booming voice. It’s the announcer! “Let’s give a warm congratulations to tonight’s winner: Chris Argent!” Still shocked, the audience gradually applauds, watching the two men still lying on the floor.

The wolf and the hunter stare wide-eyed at each other; it’s obvious they wanted to keep going, and now they can’t.

“Okay, boys, time to get up.”

Chris’s expression hardens. “No.”

“Did you say something...hunter?”

Chris looks up at the announcer. “I said, NO! We’re not finished here!”

“Actually, you are.”

“Argent…” Peter gives Chris a warning look, but the hunter won’t have it.

“Come on, guys, you’re done.” The announcer reaches for Chris’s shoulders, but Chris shoves him off. He then starts to thrust against Peter like he did before, only this time it’s more violent. Peter winces in response to the sudden action, but underneath there is the familiar sense of pleasure for both of them.

“Where’s the damn bouncer?” The announcer looks around the room. “There you are! Get your ass over here and break up this…whatever the hell this is!”

The bouncer, a big buff rugged-looking man, saunters over to where Chris and Peter are still entangled in each other, huffing and puffing. Without so much as uttering a sound, the bouncer takes hold of Chris’s collar and yanks him up into the air.

“What the…?” Silently impressed with the bouncer’s strength, Chris is engulfed with rage from being forced to stop. He was absolutely loving tonight’s battle.

Peter cries out in response to the sudden cessation of his contact with Chris, then realizes where the hunter has gone to.

“Oh my god… Put him down!” He tries to lift himself up off the ground, but the bouncer puts a massive foot on his chest to keep him down.

“HEY!” Chris shouts at the bouncer, who turns wordlessly to the hunter. “I…said…we…weren’t…DONE!”

Chris balls his dominant hand, brings back his arm, and catapults his fist towards the bouncer’s face. His hand makes contact with the bouncer’s jaw; the bouncer is barely fazed. The hunter’s eyes widen in surprise, and he tries to think of what else he could do to get the bouncer to drop him.

“Argent!” Peter calls again. “Don’t do anything you might regret!”

The hunter processes the wolf’s suggestion, then chooses to ignore it.

Once again, Chris makes a fist, and this time plunges it into the bouncer’s nose; that got him good.

The bouncer yells in pain, putting his free hand to his nose, then letting Chris drop so he could bring his other hand to add additional cover. The hunter drops to the floor and rolls onto his back, but looks at the wolf still lying on the ground, who tucking his member back into his pants.

Chris smiles at Peter, who is upset with him at first, but then also cracks into light laughter.

“Hey… You wana finish what we started?” Chris suggest that they return to one of their own places.

“Yeah… Sure.”

In a lower voice: “And this time, it’ll be for real, I assure you.” Chris winks seductively.

***

“... And then he broke the bouncer's nose. So that’s why Chris and Peter are now banned from the Jungle.” Lydia finished her explanation with a devilish smirk. “That’s what you missed by being late.” 

Allison groaned and dropped her head in her hands. “I’m staying at your place tonight.”

“That’s actually a very good idea, since, you know, the two of them ended up going to…” Lydia trailed off and raised her eyebrows, hoping Allison would catch on.

“Nuh-uh…” Allison’s eyes were wide and unbelieving.

“Uh-huh.” Lydia’s affirmation made Allison want to vomit.

“Oh god.”


End file.
